


The Mirrored Prince

by thayz_phoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 200ish words per chapter, F/M, Fluff, Hearts & Cauldrons Gift Exchange, Romance, fairytale, mysterious magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28071555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thayz_phoenix/pseuds/thayz_phoenix
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a man in front of a mirror.beta: HurricaneLola
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 30
Kudos: 62
Collections: Hearts and Cauldrons Gift Exchange





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JojotheRadPenguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JojotheRadPenguin/gifts).



Once upon a time, there was a man in front of a mirror. 

He wasn’t always there, you see, but sure seemed like it. Younger students were made aware of his presence as soon as they first walked into the castle - a strange living thing haunting one of the third-floor classrooms that should be avoided at all costs, like the Forbidden Forest, the Whomping Willow, or being late for classes. First years were easily impressionable by tales involving weird noises, dark and ancient - and probably unreal - spells.

However, he truly wasn’t dangerous - after all, he wasn’t even the shadow of the man of his past. He was just… mysterious, a trait that accompanied him even in this half existence, and mostly silent, except for one little question spoken by that soft baritone voice every single time anyone tried to talk to him. No answer, nor any acknowledgment, just a question that hung in the air.

No one knew for certain why he ended up facing the Mirror of Erised, or whether he could be saved from it - the best (and even the said worst people) tried to free him to no avail. Some thought he was cursed, others that he was simply a ghost trapped by his own unfulfilled wishes. Everyone knew his name, though.

Former Headmaster Severus Snape.


	2. the beginning

The aftermath of the battle was just as brutal as its middle. It was hard for everyone to see the familiar faces of those lying on the ground, lifeless, unaware of a victory that tasted bitter. Voldemort was dead, there wasn’t any reason to fight and still, the lingering feeling of helplessness remained. Some dealt with it by crying, others by trying to be practical. 

Minerva McGonagall belonged in the second group. It was her idea to check the Shrieking Shack to retrieve the body of the former Headmaster, hastily cleared by the short but fiery speech made by Harry Potter just before the end. She wasn’t worried about understanding the full picture, not right now, anyway, just to ensure a proper burial.

Which never happened.

She found a bloody, empty floor. Severus Snape wasn’t there. Preoccupied about misguided attempts of revenge, she returned to the castle and questioned the three eyewitnesses of his death, some Order members, and a few ghosts. It was Peeves who had the answers and he made sure to sing them while looping around the Great Hall:

_I found dear Headmaster Severus Snape  
Stuck looking at his own face  
I say it’s a fate worse than death  
But we know he carved his own path_


	3. as time passes

At first, the room was always filled with people - Unspeakables, Hogwarts staff, notable scholars from around the world - trying to solve the mystery. As the years went by and no success was achieved, fewer people kept coming each time until they could be counted on the fingers of a single hand. 

Elves left trays of food that remained untouched. McGonagall, installed as Headmistress, visited him weekly. Luna Lovegood, between one of her trips and another, decorated the whole place either with the next holiday in mind or with the urgent need of riding the space of some never-heard-of creature. The Golden Trio, actually basically two-thirds of it, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger tried to engage him in conversations, all the while defending his innocence before the Wizengamot, the Daily Prophet, and anyone and everyone who spoke ill of him - including, of course, Rita Skeeter and her infamous book. 

Once in a while, an errant student paid him a visit, out of curiosity or on a dare, but usually, those became entranced by the mirror, just to run away in fear of turning into something like him.

Nevertheless, nothing ever seemed to change.

Summer after summer, as seventh-years left Hogwarts for good and a new batch of first-years explored their way into the castle, Severus Snape stood there, motionless, repeating the same question and doing nothing besides it.

_What do you see?_


	4. the gears of time

_What do you see?_ It was the only clue he gave every single time someone spoke to him. In the beginning, everyone came up with different answers - thinking it was a riddle, or a dare, or a simple manifestation of the purpose of the mirror itself. None of it worked. His regular visitors simply got used to ignoring the question and talking about something else - giving him updates and sharing the news as if he could understand them - or care -, complaining about the students, wishing out loud he was truly alive.

All of them, except one.

Maybe it was an obsession, maybe just a strong manifestation of her sense of justice. Perhaps she needed a quest to live by, or couldn’t go on without a pet project or someone only she thought required saving. She had heard all of it before, from people who supposedly cared about her feelings. Despite that, she kept coming - weekly, when possible, monthly, when things got complicated. Sometimes with a book, sometimes she just stood beside him in front of the mirror or sat on the floor to conduct research and eat. 

She always greeted him upon entering and made her excuses before heading out. No matter what, she would never leave without answering his question, without _trying_ something at least.

She was, of course, Hermione Granger.


	5. time together

Her life went on outside that room, obviously. She didn’t do anything half-heartedly. Her N.E.W.T. scores were the best of the last few decades, the Ministry was glad to take her on and not at all satisfied after she started trying to change some of the cruelest legislation about the regulation of the magical creatures. She spent every holiday with Harry, watched most of Ginny’s games for the Holyhead Harpies, and corresponded regularly with Luna and Neville. 

She also struggled to keep her relationship with Ron, until the moment everything exploded in a massive and definitive fight and tried to cope with the idea of never being able to restore her parents' memories after several attempts.

Throughout all her successes and failures, she was right there with him. Somehow that place became her safe space and him - or what was left of him - her best companion. He couldn’t answer her or ask her to _stop bloody talking_ , and she wasn’t even sure he was aware of anything besides his own reflection. But she couldn’t keep herself from speaking or her tears from falling, or her need to unburden herself. She couldn’t stop herself from coming back. She needed the company.

And, maybe she was wrong, but she thought he needed it too.


	6. several loose moments

– What do you see?

– I see you glaring at me, Professor Snape.

– What do you see?

– I see myself, an older version of myself, I think, being complimented by what I assume are my coworkers and I think I’m winning a medal… Don’t know for what reason. They are giving me a book to sign. I seem happy and… And… I am not alone! My parents are there and... Someone is getting closer, I can’t see their face. What is this on my finger? A wedding ring?

– What do you see?

– I see that Ronald’s right and I could use some sleep.

– What do you see?

– I don’t know, why don't you tell me instead?

– What do you see?

– I see I have been looking for an answer in the wrong place, just when I thought I was about to…

– What do you see?

– Shh... I’m trying to concentrate here.

– What do you see?

– This is so bloody frustrating. How am I supposed to reply? What kind of answer do you need to be free? 

– What do you see?

– Just... Please.

– What do you see?

– It’s such a shame your very rich vocabulary seems reduced to repeating the same question. It’s hard to come to the conclusion that the newer students don’t know the real extent of your ability to offend someone.

– What do you see?

– I’ve read Skeeter’s book about you. I’m only telling you this because you can’t make me feel bad about it.

– What do you see?

– You would probably call me crazy –or something more inventive than that, I guess– but I have to say I miss you. The real you, even if we didn’t know each other, really.

– What do you see?

– I’m not giving up on you.


	7. time of change

She didn’t. 

She persisted and, somehow, she started craving those moments. Her research made a shift from being for him to being about him. Her eyes were open to the man behind the spy façade and her mind full of questions he wasn’t able to respond - nor did she think he would, if possible. Some of them she voiced anyway, others made her stare at him for more minutes than she would be comfortable admitting. 

The first time she caught herself looking for him in the mirror made her blush and stammer as if he was really watching and judging her. The first time she was unable to contain the urge to lift her fingers and touch the glass after seeing him there provoked a hasty retreat and later dreams she seemed unable to forget.

Her next visitations became introspective because she got stuck balancing between guilt and denial until it was impossible to avoid facing the truth.

When she finally broke her silence and he, in turn, asked again the very same question she could now reproduce with his exact voice intonation, she felt suddenly unprepared. She closed her eyes and opened again to see him on the other side of the mirror, in all his forbidding glory, as she once remembered him. Her answer left her mouth whispered like a secret, like a crime she was fearful of having committed. 

– I only see you.


	8. it's time

He wasn’t the Philosopher Stone, but the principle remained the same. It was an enchantment that kept him alive and trapped in front of the mirror until someone wanted him to be free, to be happy, to be himself, despite everything he had done or anything he could still do; until someone offered what he truly needed - a life worth living. 

There was a specific person to blame - burning a canvas would never seem satisfactory enough, still, it would have to do - but that became secondary in the midst of everything. She was facing the mirror and didn’t notice the sudden breeze that made his robes billow, nor the subtle movement of his fingers. But then he blinked and took an unsteady step forward. 

Being freed from the clutches of time felt strange. He saw the years pass by by the different lights that coloured the room from the windows, by the changes in the people who visited him. He was aware in an ethereal and unreal sort of way, like a long and strangely vivid dream. He didn’t feel hunger, thirst, nor pain, cold, warmth.

But he did feel. And, most importantly, he remembered. Every single moment.


	9. the end

Her eyes seemed stuck to the vision of both of them together, making her unaware of the change. It took her some time to notice and then finally move her stare from the glass to the man beside her - his reflection was smiling softly, she needed to confirm it was true.

She didn’t find the same expression. Instead, his onyx eyes - so captivating, so alive - told her he was listening to everything she said all those years. Her first instinct was to open her mouth to apologize, to explain, to ask a million and one questions. He anticipated her by talking first.

– Now that I can speak… - his voice was rough, but retained its velvety quality; it made her strangely aware of his presence. – Please do shut up.

She hadn’t the time to be angry, because he intertwined his fingers of one hand with hers and the other took a stranded curl from her face and moved it behind her ear with a feather-light touch. Her heart beat faster and louder and she tried - again - to say something, to no avail.

Because he kissed her.

And they, of course, lived bickering, arguing, complaining, glaring, grumping, compromising, caring, cherishing, loving, happily ever after.


End file.
